The Ruins
by Francie14
Summary: Ivy and Julia develop a friendship based on mutual dysfunction. Includes Julia/Michael. No Ivy/Derek, though. Set after the finale. Will become rated M based on drug use, language and sex.
1. Chapter 1

**Hi, everyone. This is my first Smash fic, but since I saw the first episode a week ago, I've become obsessed. I've become enamoured with the character of Ivy; she seems to have much more depth and intensity than her opponent, Karen. I also like, in case you don't notice from the fic, Julia and Tom. Frank and Leo? Not so much.**

**This will focus heavily on a developing friendship between Julia and Ivy, with Michael/Julia. Not Derek/Ivy, though. I think he's using her for sex; it's been obvious since the first episodes.**

**Anyway. Hope you enjoy it!**

Having just heard some pretty _awful, career altering _news, Ivy thought that surely, she was allowed a little tipple of alcohol. _It hardly takes an alcoholic to want a drink after being rejected,_ she thought, clutching a small, translucent bottle. Drinking after being passed over for the role of a lifetime was something anyone would do, and so with something akin to determination, Ivy wrapped her hands around the bottle, lifting it to her mouth.

She knew this was dangerous; Karen's opening night, no. _Bombshell's _opening night depended slightly on her. She was up on that stage, after all, and if she stumbled, the production would be ruined for the night. Ivy guessed that was the difference; if the star, Karen, stumbled, the whole show may be in ruins. If she, a mere chorus girl, fell or missed a note, she would be fired, another nameless girl taking her place. The audience wouldn't even notice. Ivy wanted that pressure; she thrived in it. She had been born into the role of shadow-star, the girl never quite managing to step into the starlight. First with her mother, and now Karen-freaking-Cartwright.

She allowed herself, for relaxation's sake, to get drunk.

"Ensemble to the stage". Four fucking words chronicled her life now, that of a chorus girl.

She took one more solitary swig of vodka, and stood up slowly. She would have to be careful not to let anyone know; she'd have to be extra perfunctory. No stumbles, no swayed steps, no slurred words.

She hurried to her spot in the clear box, gluing her feet to the floor. She felt like swaying; the stage was lulling her into a false perception wherein she could see herself standing where Karen was now; in the spotlight, straight and unearthly talented. Her torso moved slightly to the left, in a kind of half-sway, but she could see Jessica looking straight at her through half-lidded eyes. She stood up straight as the curtain liften, raising her chin in defiance.

"Nobody loves you."

...

Ivy Lynn sat in the uncomfortable chair, feeling ill at ease in her own skin. The skin of her chest felt hot; as if there was some kind of heavy compress fitting itself into the crook of her neck. Her lips twitched in derision, and her hands moved on auto-pilot, looking in her heavy bag for something to stop the anxiety. Her fingers landed on a brown bottle on their own, and Ivy paused, feeling the heady weight of the bottle. She hesitantly lifted it out of the bag, marvelling in the fact that she'd managed to keep the pills a secret.

After what happened at Heaven on Earth, she'd uttered many platitudes, even allowing Tom and Sam to do a police-search of her apartment for anything resembling pills or alcohol. That particular evening reached boiling point when Sam attempted to sneak cough syrup out of it's cupboard in the bathroom, and Ivy finally kicked them out. _What business is it of theirs, anyway, when Tom's loyalty left the damn state when he agreed to let Karen be Marilyn._

A therapist had once told her that when she felt this anxiety, she should imagine herself surrounded by love in a safe place. The only problem was, she'd lost that safe place when she'd lost the only part that had mattered to her in a long, long time. She had grown to think of the stage as home, and now it felt as if she was being evicted.

She had always been Marilyn. That was the point. Derek had obviously seen something in Karen, but the reality of it was that Ivy _was _Marilyn. Maybe he'd picked Karen because she had more innocence than Ivy, but Marilyn had more gumption to her; more danger, more intensity than Karen could ever hope to have. The physical ineptitude of Karen was just the icing on the cake - how the hell did they expect to pass off a skinny rake as Marilyn Monroe? Wasn't Marilyn renowned for her curves?

After deliberating for minutes, or possibly hours, Ivy decided that enough was enough. She couldn't think about Marilyn Monroe anymore. She wouldn't think of Derek again, or Karen, or what could have happened. In that one second, Ivy had made a final decision; she wouldn't stick around to see Derek and Karen inevitably get together, Karen becoming a Tony-winning star.

She lifted the bottle to herr lips, slowly unscrewing the white cap, filling her palm with pills.

...

Julia was having quite a spectacular evening. That was the only way to describe it, really. It was neither positive nor negative, but spectacular. Her and Tom's musical was going to be a Smash, she could see it now. She'd made some steps to defining both her relationship with her husband and her affair, and her son was responding to her work for the first time in, well, a long time.

There was a minor glitch in the evening, though. Julia had never really been close to Ivy. Though Ivy had been friends with Tom for years, Julia had always been too wrapped up in her family to really have time for socialising. She thought she saw something earlier this evening, though. Maybe it was because she'd been in a bad place herself recently, that she was more able to recognize melancholy in others. It wasn't any fault of Tom's; he was finally quite happy for the first time in a while.

But as they'd told Ivy that she wasn't going to be a star, she recognized that look. The one that said that she was in trouble.

Julia moved away from the stage, where the entire company was congratulating, circling Karen like vultures in love, and headed towards the dressing rooms. She guessed that Ivy wouldn't want to stick around, and surely she had to be there.

As she opened the door, she was shocked into silence. Ivy was at her table, and it looked as if she were asleep. Her blonde hair created a curtain around her face, one arm resting beneath her head, the other gallantly swaying at her side. She was mumbling incoherently; to Julia, it sounded as if she was complaining that her stomach hurt.

Julia moved closer, grabbing a tuft of blonde hair, moving it away from a pale, sweaty face. Concern grew in spades as Ivy lifted her head, and Julia was faced with eyes as red as the dress Ivy was wearing earlier that evening. She stroked the blonde strands of hair with one hand, the other reaching into her pocket to find her cellphone.

The call for an ambulance was perhaps the most difficult call she had ever had to make; it surpassed any call she'd recieved about Leo or Frank, as Ivy's life was, at the moment, chronicling hers in the melancholy she felt, and as Ivy was obviously falling deeply into Marilyn's abyss of depression and addiction, she could feel herself remembering the addiction of Michael.

Julia heard the paramedics trying to open the back door to the dressing rooms - to avoid creating chaos, she had instructed them to do so - and she waved them in quietly, still unable to speak.

**Next chapter tomorrow.**


	2. Chapter 2

**I want season 2 now, damnit! Ok, this chapter cements a friendship between Ivy and Julia. **

**Sorry it's so short, I'll try to write a longer chapter tomorrow.**

**Rating: T for language.**

**Pairings: Julia/Michael**

The paramedics had come and gone, and Ivy was floating. She was aware of an overly feminine voice talking to her in what she assumed was meant to be soothing tones, but instead, she was filled with confusion. Who the hell was it? Karen would certainly visit her, if only to satiate her own goody-goody image and overly ambitious moral codes. Jessica was no longer her friend; she had recently pledged her alleigence to Karen. That only left her mother. Who had actually taken her advice and left the theater where she was in the chorus. Meant to be the star.

Julia? Wow, that would be strange. They had never really been friends, in spite of Ivy's friendship with Tom. Ivy was, of course, aware of what was going on in Julia's personal life. The affair with Micheal Swift was something that she both empathized with and was somewhat angry about. Though she would sleep with a director in part to get a job, she valued relationships wherein the participants were faithful to each other. She may believe that people need different things from different people at different times in their lives, but she still believed that adultery was wrong.

It was unlikely that Julia was there, though. Or anyone, really.

Ivy began to open her eyes, carefully. It felt like there was a thousand years worth of sleep accumilated in the stuck-feeling her eyes had, and opening them was going to be troublesome. She stretched her fingers, reeling in the idea that someone was there with her...someone was _there. _Her whole body felt weird; like she'd run a marathon. Her legs ached, and the crook of her elbow was sore.

She finally succeeded in opening her eyes, to find that her initial conclusion that there was no way Julia would be there was...well...wrong. The redhead was reclined in a chair, half asleep. Her hair fell over her face, and her eyes looked heavy, like she'd been crying.

Ivy stuttered in attempting to make a sound. It was meant to be "what's going on?" but came out as a half-hearted "hi". Her companion seemed startled, and bolted upright.

"Ivy! You're...well, you're awake!" The sentence was uttered with so much false enthusiasm Ivy couldn't help but grin in derision.

"So it seems. What happened?"

Julia sat up slowly, and her face seemed to change in complexion. Her pallor greyed, and her eyes watered.

"Well, honey, you...er, do you remember what happened in Boston?"

Ivy paled. Karen fucking Cartwright had been handed the part of Marilyn, all because Derek was attracted to her.

"Yeah, I think...I think so.".

"You took some pills, and you collapsed."

"Oh."

That was all it took. One word, and Ivy thought she'd never recover. Her mind was a stasis of blankness, and suddenly all she could think about was Marilyn Monroe. She didn't notice that Julia had stood, hands flapping at her sides.

"You'll, er, be kept in hospital for 72 hours. I think I need to go - Frank and Leo, you know. I'll come back later, and maybe bring you dinner?"

Ivy paused, before putting on her game face and smiling widely. The thought had suddenly occurred to her that maybe this whole episode could work in her favour - after all, surely this was a sign that she was more Marilyn-esque than her opponent?

"Sure, That would be great."

"Okay. Well I'll, just, er, leave then. Bye!"

Luckily, the nervousness that had accompanied Julia's presence left the room when she did, and Ivy was left to think about what had happened.

It was inevitable that some people would think that this was a mere cry for attention. Those people obviously hadn't seen what was quite obviously there - the pills, the drinking, the inappropriate sex. They were known to be connected with someone who was emotionally unstable - Karen had even uttered those words herself. Surely, they would see that this wasn't some pathetic attempt to get the role of Marilyn back? They _had _to take her seriously, otherwise she would be in a worse position than she had been before. She would be seen as a pathetic teenager, not able to handle the simplest of emotional trials. That couldn't happen.

She thought of quitting, maybe moving to London. The West End would be a whole new ball game, and Ivy was sure her mother wouldn't let her. Not for any feelings of maternal protectiveness, of course, but because then, Ivy wouldn't be around to be watched, and she wouldn't get to think about how much more successful her family had been. No, she wouldn't move.

One thing was certain, though: She wouldn't be seeing Derek again.

Ivy was interrupted from her musings by a quietly passive knock at the door. A bunch of yellow flowers were shoved through the doorframe, a pale hand holding them. A head followed, and Tom exhaled, entering the room.

"Hey, sweetie." His opening line was said with something akin to pity.

"Tom! Hi!"

"So..we, er, are going back to New York tomorrow! Sam and I are leaving early, we want to get back to see the game..." Obviously, Ivy thought, Tom was going to dodge the elephant in the room for as long as he was capable. Did he not even fucking notice he was standing in a hospital room? "Julia is going to wait for you in Boston, her and Frank are having a few problems..I think she wanted a bit of peace before heading back."

"Oh, okay. I, er, hope they work it out." Ivy smiled her most precious smile, hoping that Tom wouldn't see the desperation behind it. If he wanted to ignore what was happening, then so would she. "What about, what about Derek?"

Tom stiffened, his eyes downcast. He obviously didn't want to say anything, but Ivy pressed him forward with her eyes.

"He left this morning." He stopped suddenly, twisting in his seat. His hands played with eachother in nervousness, and he looked away from her. "With Karen."

Tom finally looked at Ivy, and she shuddered. Her eyes took on a melancholic look, becoming red and watery, before she quickly composed herself and dotted her eyes with the edge of the stiff hospital blanket.

"Okay. Well that makes sense. So how long have I been out of it?"

"About 48 hours. We, er, we weren't allowed in at first." He noticed Ivy looked like she wanted to ask him something. He wasn't an idiot; he knew she wanted to ask if Derek had visited. He didn't have the heart to tell her that he had seen this as an attempt to get Marilyn back, and had left without so much as a 'how is she?'

"So when can I get out of here" She said in a half-sigh.

"Later this afternoon. Julia is going to come by at 4, after the, er, well, the psychiatrist is going to come by."

Ivy knew that this would happen, so she simply sighed, and smiled tightly as Tom said he needed to leave.

As soon as he walked out the door, a tear slipped down her cheek.

She was reminded of the opening scene of Marilyn. Nobody loves you. Your father left. You are alone.


	3. Chapter 3

**Hi, all. This chapter establishes skips a bit of time, and deals with what everyone has been doing since Boston.**

**It's Julia-centric.**

**Rating: K**

**Reviews are food to me!**

The summer was warm. Too warm, really, for New York. While known for it's humidity in the summer months, the city wasn't known for it's warmth. You couldn't walk outside without being accosted with a morose, thick, wet heat, one that made the hair of millions as frizzy as vermincelli. Central park was inevitably stuffed with tourists, who believed that surely, the heat was natural. The stagnant atmosphere of thick, heavy moss was considered 'tropical' by the visitors, and 'bloody annoying' by residents.

Julia strolled slowly across the green grass, wondering where her life had gone. At one point, she was a wife, mother and successful writer. At the present moment, she was neither a wife or mother, as both men were absent. Seemingly for good. Her soon to be ex-husband, Frank, had called. To tell her that Leo wasn't going to be home for a few weeks; they were taking a 'male bonding trip' for the first two months of his summer vacation. In her heart of hearts, Julia knew what this code meant. It meant that Leo didn't want to be around her, and neither did Frank. The fact that she had recieved divorce papers didn't conteract this theory.

She hadn't spoken to either of them since the male duo left Boston without her.

Julia hadn't even heard much of_ Bombshell_; she knew it took time, that Broadway wouldn't just appear out of the blue, and that there was still lots of work to be done.

Karen was, according to everyone, a star. _The New York Times _had given a rarely enthusiastic review to the company's Boston performances, the reviewer commenting that the musical was a 'revelation, challenging the structure of stardom'. Karen herself had been added to numerous 'up and coming' lists on both internet and paper, and had already been invited to participate in numerous television projects in Los Angeles. Not surprisingly, the 'star' declined them all, wanting to be loyal to the project that gave her this stardom in the first place.

Derek was currently back in London, reviewing the West End performance of Tom and Julia's former musical, _Heaven on Earth. _

Nobody could really believe that he hadn't called Ivy. Not once.

They were a highly sexual couple; the anthesis to Karen had been with her Dev. They made love constantly, talked occasionally, and thought of _Bombshell_ majorly throughout all of their time together.

Julia, for one, didn't think that it was a real relationship. It was a meeting of kindred spirits more than anything, an experiment into a connection that was more based in sexuality than soul.

Sort of like Julia had with Michael. Who returned to his wife with his tail between his legs. Humph!

...

Julia sat down on the green grass of Central Park, smiling opposite her companion, Ivy Lynn. Ivy was released from hospital that afternoon, armed with anti-depressants, the number for a psychiatrist (sessions with him were _compulsory, _she had been told), and a heart heavy with depression.

Julia surprised her yet again, by showing up at the time of her release, flowers in one hand. The two hugged briefly, Ivy's game face set in stone. She would _be ok. _Or at least _act _like she was.

They took the train back to New York together, reveling in the idea of some time to relax, as it seemed that nothing was moving quickly with _Bombshell._

It was on the train that Julia suggested a picnic would be a good idea. Ivy had lost an immeasurable amount of weight since the Workshop, and Julia wanted to both give her a healthy meal, and allow the blonde some time to get away, stop thinking about the musical and it's director.

"More potato salad?"

"Sure, thanks." The blonde offered her acceptance with a quick, shiny smile. She took a small plate of the salad, biting into a potato with something akin to the _opposite _of gusto.

The two sat for a long while in the park, eventually moving to Ivy's apartment for a drink or two.

Ivy knew she wasn't supposed to drink, and Julia knew that Ivy had issues with alcohol. That didn't stop either of the eager young women from partaking in a little indulgence, though.

It was about midnight when Julia stopped some childish, trivial drinking game they were playing.

"Ivy..I...er...I fucked up." The other woman was startled; at first because the idea of Julia swearing was, well, incomprehensible. Second, because Julia admitted it was a mistake.

"I know. Me too."

"What made us go so nuts?"

"Men. Men, showbusiness, theater, men." Ivy realized at this point, how much she missed Derek. Not the man, but his company. _He could be great company. Especially in bed._

"I know. Let's drink to men. Or, well, single men!" Julia slurred.

"Ok", Ivy agreed, "but only if I get to drink to swearing _off _of men!"

"That's a deal".

**Woo another chapter bites the dust! Remember, reviews are like food to me!**


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